


Found Home

by lilacSkye



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Making Love, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26221822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacSkye/pseuds/lilacSkye
Summary: Ryuji comes home from work. Akira welcomes him.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 12
Kudos: 139





	Found Home

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, this is apparently my time of the year when I just churn smut in some form of stress relief and it probably sucks, cause I wrote in like two days non stop, but I needed it. I really craved some hot and sweet PegoRyu, and since my other fic is nowhere even close to satisfy that itch, this happens. I'm so sorry, I just hope it's readable.
> 
> Characters are aged up a couple of years for college things and share a small apartment.

Strange as it may sound, Ryuji loves his job.

Okay, so, maybe “love” is a strong word, he’ll admit, and it’s not like it’s some posh overpaid desk job or anything; he just helps out at Protein Lovers, moves boxes and takes care of the equipment, sometimes cleans the place for a few extra bucks that can always come in handy. He’s not really allowed to assist the customers, but a couple of guys of the staff noticed how competent his training regime was when he used to come here to train with Akira for their Phantom Thieves shenanigans, and sometimes let him help out amateurs runners and beginners. They say he has a good personality to deal with the most introverted customers who have trouble opening up to an authority figure. Whatever that means, Ryuji is just happy he can be of help.

It’s nothing fancy, but Ryuji likes it that way regardless. It helps keeping the bills and student’s loans paid, and lets him share a place of his own with Akira. He’ll take what he can get.

And maybe, if he manages to finish college, he can try and become a proper personal trainer himself. He’d like that, yeah.

His bad leg doesn’t hurt nearly as much anymore. Just a little stiff, and sometimes it seizes up when weather decides to be a little shit and upends buckets and buckets of rain over the city for shits and giggles, but he supposes he can say he’s B-okay. Not A, cause that would require the expensive surgery Akira has been insisting for for months now and that Ryuji keeps saying eff no to, but a solid B. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“Alright, guys, good job for today. You can go.” Sanada-san, the owner, finally announces when evening rolls around and the last customer leaves with a tired but satisfied grin. “Especially you, Ryuji, I know you’ve got your exams coming up soon.”

Ugh, he really does have to remind him that every time, huh? He guesses he has a point; Ryuji’s academic efforts may have increased - having an actual interest for the subject does wonders, holy shit - but that doesn’t mean he’s necessarily a good student. In fact, compared to straight A+ genius Kurusu Akira, he pretty much sucks.

Ironically, it’s a blessing he’s sharing a room with said A+ student, or he knows he would have dropped out already. Late night gaming is one hell of a trap, and only Akira knows how to get him to drop the console at the snap of a finger.

Almost three years later, two of which were spent in a relationship that is still going strong, and Ryuji still claims the guy is magic. Akira admittedly slayed a godlike thing, to be fair, so that already proves Ryuji’s point.

He grins and quickly gathers his things. He didn’t get to do much save for moving shit around today, so he’ll leave the showers to the others who need him far more than him. Sanada-san flashes him a thumbs up while he’s on his way out. He’s a cool guy, rough on outside but actually pretty caring, not to mention a former boxing champion and retired policeman. Effin’ cool, man.

So yeah, he thinks as he sways on the spot on the ever so crowded subway - so much, in fact, that he doesn’t even need to hold himself upright. Can’t fall when you’re squished against other people on every side, right? Genius - he likes his life, now. It’s not much, but it’s _his_ , and that’s enough for him already.

“Yoo, I’m back!”

The apartment is quiet when he goes in, silent save for the muffled, unintelligible rambling of an old tv stuffed in a corner and the fizzing sound of something being cooked up. A moment later, Akira’s familiar unkempt mop of hair pops out from behind the kitchen’s door, and god-freaking-dammit, no matter how many times it happens, Ryuji will never get used to the sheer joy that brightens up Akira’s face whenever he sees him coming back home. For real, it’s not even that blatant, just a quiet smile and a slight tilt of his head, but it’s still enough to send Ryuji’s mind for a spin, and his heart to make all sorts of somersaults.

“Heya! How was your day?”

“Pretty good, moving stuff around all the time and all that jazz.” He kicks his shoes off and dutifully places them back in the shoerack, before Akira’s inner cleanfreak can notice and blow up at him again. “Yours?”

Akira’s face falls in a pretty self explanatory, disgusted way. “Long story short, boring. Long story long, super mega boring.”

Ryuji snickers. He’s all too aware of the mnemonic hell Akira’s going through with Law School, there isn’t a day he doesn’t complain about having to learn all those articles and numbers by heart in some form or another. And he still needs to ace pretty much all his exams if he wants to keep his scholarship so… well, damn. It’s no wonder Akira has been seeing little sunlight lately.

Akira disappears from sight to stir whatever is sizzling in the pan - smells like okonomiyaki, yummy. Ryuji follows suit, and takes the chance to snake his arms around Akira’s waist from behind, pressing his back flush against Ryuji’s chest. The few inches he has over Akira even allow him to rest his chin over his shoulder. Akira hums and burrows himself even deeper in his arms.

“Can’t be that hard for a Phantom Thief to learn all the laws he gotta break, though?”

“Ha, ha, very funny, what a joker.” Akira deadpans in immediate retaliation. “Being a good citizen really sucks.”

“Yeah, imagine not being able to shoot a god in the face. Can’t relate.”

That at last has Akira laughing, and he relaxes even more in Ryuji’s arms, which Ryuji happily allows. There’s usually not much he can do to help Akira out with his incredibly complex studies, so he’s happy to be able to provide some reprieve in whatever way he can, as little as it is.

Akira turns off the stove, begrudgingly wiggling out of Ryuji’s hold.

“Dinner’s ready. Go get a shower, I’ll set everything up.”

“Yessir.”

At least he’s quick at it - gotta go fast, always - a good scrub under the lukewarm water, a quick slathering of shampoo, and he is done. He dumps his dirty tracksuit in the hampster nearby and pulls up a fresh set of clothes. He should probably bleach his hair again soon; the undercut still looks pretty good, but his roots are starting to show.

Akira has just finished setting down the last glass by the time Ryuji reappears.

"Right on time, as always."

"Can't have you waiting for me, right?"

Akira smiles that weird ass smile of his, a lopsided smirk that unnerves a lot of people, the ones who only take Akira at face value, and never bother to search deeper. It's the last vestige of Joker, all that remains after the mask has come off and shattered in blue flames. Ryuji can see why it might appear disquieting to some, but as far as he's concerned it's just another facet of the mesmerizing puzzle his boyfriend is.

It's also quite hot, but that's a whole 'nother matter.

They eat, they take their time. It's been a year now since they moved in together, after spending a year apart with only a cold phoneline and periodic visits to keep them together. Ryuji before the Phantom Thieves would have never even hoped it could work out, Ryuji after the Phantom Thieves _made_ it work out.

It's surprising, how drastically a chance encounter can change a whole mindset. He's almost grateful to Kamoshida for unwittingly bringing them together.

… Yeah, no, fuck that. And fuck Kamoshida too, that sick bastard deserved all the shit he got.

Ryuji listens to Akira's complaints about this and that. He tells him Sae called again, wanted to know how it was going. If he manages to keep this up and get his degree soon, he might be taken in by Sae at her new law office. It's still hard for Ryuji to see Makoto's big sis as one of the good guys - and hell, she is, without her help they all would probably be dead - but he has to admit she's working her butt off as a defense attorney to fix her mistakes. If she and Akira were to team up in court… well, that's one dream team if there's ever been one. 

Ryuji would not be part of that, but it's okay, he doesn't mind to sit back in the shadows. He will support Akira and cheer for him from home.

It's fine. They are fine.

"You're being quiet. Tired?"

Ryuji stands and helps cleaning the table. They don't have a washing machine - too big for their stamp-sized kitchen and way too expensive - so that means they'll have to do the dishes later.

"Not really. Just…"

Enjoying the moment, the domesticity of it all. He never thought he'd be lucky enough to experience this. Honestly, when his leg broke and all his hopes with it, he struggled to see a future at all, let alone one where he truly, actually, felt like he belonged.

He can't put that thought into words, of course. He's still ass at expressing himself properly. But all it takes is for Akira to throw him a quick glance and a smile, and Ryuji knows he knows.

"Yeah. Me too."

Their bedroom is just as small as the rest of the place, but it's hardly an issue, not when they are pressed flush against each other, clothes flying off and lying forgotten all over the floor, hands trailing up and down and running familiar paths over each other's body, lips entwined and kissing and suckling until Ryuji can't tell when he ends and Akira begins. They let themselves fall on the bed, the old mattress groaning in pain as their combined weight crashes upon the rusty net beneath. Akira chuckles, his breath hot and coming in short puffs, and pulls himself up from Ryuji's chest, resting his weight on his hands and knees.

"Feeling up to it?"

He always asks, and despite the smoldering lust and the intoxicating smell of sex what really makes Ryuji weak is the sheer adoration in Akira's eyes as he asks for permission. He'd say yes to anything as long as it's Akira doing whatever the eff he wants with him, but Akira asking for consent without fail will forever make him want to cry.

"Eff yeah man, I've been waiting for this!"

If a tear escapes the corner of his eye, both pretend not to notice. Not a hard feat for Ryuji, not when Akira dives down and catches his lips in his once again, and Ryuji melts as Akira moves against him, slow and steady, tongue darting in and out and just the faintest touch of teeth against teeth. At the same time, his hands trail down, short nails biting into Ryuji's flesh as they go, setting his nerves on fire.

Then they hook around the waistband of his boxers and pull down, leaving Ryuji completely bare for whatever Akira wants to do to him.

Akira pulls away from the kiss and hums appreciatively at how damn hard Ryuji already is. Cocky bastard.

"Quit staring, dammit!"

"Sorry, sorry," Akira laughs, not even close to remorseful at all. "Just enjoying the view."

Ryuji huffs. "Dick."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Oh for the love of-" but Ryuji has to cut himself off there, because Akira's finger is tracing his length, deliciously slowly, blissful torture, and all semblance of thought is promptly booted out of his brain. Only Akira exists, the sweet slow friction of his fingers as they pump him, taking their damn sweet time, from base to tip and then all the way down again.

"Akiraa~"

He whines and writhes and grinds, his back arching off the mattress in a desperate attempt to thrust in Akira's hand and his hands fisting tighty into the sheets, crumpling them without mercy. Akira - supreme dickhead - hums again, obviously very amused.

Bold of him to laugh when he is painfully hard and his stiff boner is poking Ryuji's thigh, all things considered.

"Alright, alright." he singsongs, dipping down to suckle a sensitive spot on Ryuji's neck. Then down and down he goes, licking and sucking and leaving a crimson trail of lovebites and hickeys in his wake, until _oh_ -

The aforementioned dickhead blows on the swollen tip of Ryuji's cock, the cold air sending sparks down his nerves.

"Oh come on, that's not fair."

"Yeah, it isn't. But you didn't tell me what I have to do."

Oh, not this shit again. He hates when Akira plays this game.

"Man, are you even for real right now?! _Hng!_ "

Akira keeps pressing his lips against his erection, a chain of sweet kisses against the heated flesh with just enough tongue to drive Ryuji mad as Akira wanders dangerously close to where he needs him the most and then backs down again.

"You need to give your orders clearly, or people might misinterpret. Was it like this? Or this?" Akira cooes softly, and it's clear he's enjoying it, the almighty bastard, as he licks and nips and god _fucking_ damn it, he's getting so close…!

"What do you want, Ryuji?"

Akira's eyes are half-lidded, heavy with lust and desire, but his gaze is clear and piercing and allconsuming, and it's nothing short of a miracle Ryuji doesn't come from that alone.

"Please," he sobs, "Suck me off."

Akira beams as though Ryuji just told him Christmas is coming six months early.

"Gladly."

Ryuji tells himself he's ready for it, Akira has done this for him a fuckton of times already - one thing they were quick to find out is that they both really enjoyed giving head to each other, weirdly enough - but that is the biggest lie of the day, because he definitely isn't ready when Akira takes him in in one fell swoop, no hesitation at all; when scorching, wet warmth envelops him whole, reducing him to ash in a matter of moments; when he can feel himself hit the back of Akira's throat everytime Akira reels back and goes back on him, pulling Ryuji deeper inside himself. Ryuji can't help but thrust upward, his body moving on his own, desperately chasing after Akira's warmth whenever the latter has to break away and breathe. In his defense, Akira doesn't do anything to make him stop; if anything, he meets him halfway just as enthusiastically, humming encouragingly everytime Ryuji pushes up against him and hits the base of his tongue.

"A-Akira, I-"

He's close, he can tell. And damn it all, it's a big one too. He cards a hand through Akira's sweaty curls, pulls lightly on it as a warning to get the hell out of there before its's too late.

But Akira has none of it and stubbornly keeps bobbing his head up and down, licking and sucking like there's no tomorrow.

"Akira!! Pull out, damn it!!"

He can't hold it for much longer; he can feel the climax building up, the pressure at the base of his abdomen quickly growing unbearable as it reels back and back like a tidal wave ready to crush anything on its path. He pulls harder on Akira's hair, enough to make him flinch.

Akira pulls out, his lips just a breath over his tip, so close he can feel them ghosting over the hypersensitive flesh. He shakes his head, never breaking eye contact. His lips are red and bruised and swollen, glistening with saliva and precum, his whole face is flushed and slick with sweat, his eyes dazed with unabashed want, but still unwavering when they lock on Ryuji, effortlessly pinning him down. It's the fucking hottest thing Ryuji's ever seen, and Ryuji's already strained cock twitches dangerously, 

"It's okay, Ryuji, just let go. Don't hold back."

His mouth latches on Ryuji once more and this time there is no escaping it; Ryuji's back arches sharply again, stars and colorful splotches dot his vision and he screams as he comes in Akira's mouth, hard and hot. Akira takes it in stride with astonishing aplomb, eyes fluttering close as he hollows his cheeks and works Ryuji with his mouth, unfazed by the scorching heat flooding his mouth and dribbling down his chin, splothing his cheeks.

It's not until Ryuji has started to come down the post coital high and Akira released his now empty dick that Ryuji notices something different than usual.

"Did-Did you," he stumbles on his words, his tongue clumsy and sleepy. "Did you just swallow-?".

Akira is still straddling Ryuji's lap, sitting on his calves as he swipes the traces of Ryuji's climax off his face with this thumb and then has the nerve to lick it, slow and languid and completely unrepentant.

"Yeah," he says as though it's the most natural thing in the world, and even _winks_ , the glorious douchebag. He looks sinfully hot like this, flushed and sweaty from head to toe, lips bruised and voice hoarse from the abuse Ryuji's dick imparted on his throat. "Figured we might give it a try. I declare the experiment successful."

Ryuji flops back on the mattress; the cool pillow is a blessing from above against the fire in his skin.

"You didn't hafta- man, a guy could really use some warning."

Akira cackles as though it's no big deal, though his laugh freezes in a grimace for a second too long for Ryuji not to notice, even in his dazed state. His eyes fall down along Akira's lithe but still surprisingly toned body until they land on the dark boxers he's still wearing and _well_ , that looks hella painful. He immediately sits up, almost dislodging Akira from atop himself.

"Woah dude, why didn't you tell me sooner you were getting this bad?" He throws Akira's arms around his shoulders to give him some leverage and quickly helps him out of the irremediably ruined boxers. Akira's cock bounces out of it in an instant, and Akira groans throatily in Ryuji's ear as the fabric slides over the tip and down his legs, finally freeing him.

"Didn't- ha- didn't want to interrupt. I was enjoying the show."

Shit, Akira's sultry tone is enough to get Ryuji hard again, their cocks brushing together as Akira presses himself flush against Ryuji. He looks moments away from coming undone, and Ryuji would be lying if he claimed he didn't find it hot as all hell.

He wraps his hand around Akira. He earns himself a strangled hiss, and the glorious sight of Akira throwing his head backwards, exposing the length of his neck to Ryuji.

He's _definitely_ hard again, holy shit. That has to be a record.

His hand falters, he stumbles over the frantic pace. Akira groans and moans in his ear, pushes in his hand with abandon while his own hands dig into the meat of Ryuji's back, carving red crescent-shaped indents in his muscles.

"Aki-Akira," Ryuji breathes out, "How do you- I'll do anything-"

Akira smiles weakly, and then reaches down, folding his hand over Ryuji's wrist and forcing him to a stop.

"Lube."

Oh, right.

He scrambles madly to get the drawer of his nightstand open - in his defense, the thing is quite hard to open during the best of times, imagine while groping for it blindly and in this state of distress - and then nearly empties the whole thing on the floor before his fingers finally hit the plastic bottle he so desperately needs.

"Aight, got it. Should I lay down or turn around?"

Akira clicks his tongue and pries the bottle off his grasp. He opens it with a quiet popping sound and pours a generous amount on his palm, enough to abundantly coat the entirety of his hand. Not for the first time, Ryuji notices how long and elegant his fingers are, and he's all too well acquainted with how skillfully they move, especially when reaching down and pulling him open.

He sucks in a sharp breath, his cock now fully revitalized alright. He should probably ask Akira to bring the red leather gloves back in the bedroom sometimes.

Akira's not lubed hand reaches for his chin, pulling his face upwards. He's met with a cocky smirk that sends his blood on a beeline to his nether regions.

"Eyes on me now. I won't have you distracted."

It takes Ryuji's huddled brain a moment too long to realize Akira's arm is snaking around his own back, not Ryuji's, and…

And Ryuji's breath is cut short when Akira's mouth falls open, eyes scrunched close, and soft whimpers escape his lips as his fingers work himself open in quick, precise strokes and thrusts. Akira's other arm feels like a vice around Ryuji's shoulders, but Ryuji is in no shape or position to complain cause _holy. fucking. shit._

"Hngh, Ryu… Ryuji…"

Ryuji swallows, his mouth suddenly very dry with a newfound anxiety. Akira is the one calling the shots most of the time, and if Ryuji fucks up this time, ruins it all because he has no self control whatsoever when it comes to his sinfully sexy boyfriend, he definitely wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

Akira smiles and presses his lips against Ryuji's. It's sweet, almost chaste hadn't it been for the lingering aftertaste of Ryuji's own seed still coating Akira's lips, and it's super weird how the thought should gross him out of his skin but instead ends up stoking the flames in his belly even further.

"Don't worry. It's gonna be alright."

And of course, Ryuji believes him. He believes him when he takes the bottle and lubes himself up, believes him when he helps Akira get in position on his lap, the tip of his cock resting against Akira's entrance.

Believes him when Akira smirks and sinks down on him and Ryuji penetrates him in one smooth motion. Akira's back spasms and arches as he's breached, a throaty scream cascading out of his open mouth, and it's all Ryuji can do to hold on to Akira's hips for dear life and don't. fucking. move.

It takes a moment, but it feels longer than that, stuck in unbearable heat that threatens to make him come undone at any given time. He chokes back a sob, and Akira's hands are on him in a second, all too sweet and tender as they caress and thread through his hair, and soon enough Akira's mouth follows suit, peppering sweet and fluttering kisses wherever they can reach. His forehead, his lower lip, the corner of his eye. Akira is everywhere around him, and it's overwhelming.

"Alright, you can move now."

"You… you sure?"

Akira hums and rolls his hips forward, slow and smooth, pulling him even deeper. They both groan in wanton pleasure, then Akira has the gall to laugh.

"I'd say."

It gets significantly messier from then on. No more words are spoken, but the room is anything but quiet as the bed creaks and groans with every powerful thrust, as the wet sound of flesh against flesh grows in intensity, as broken names and pleads to go _faster, harder, deeper_ rise up like chants. Ryuji is soon swept up by the hurricane Akira is, and thrusts and thrusts and thrusts, until the warmth is too much and-

"Aki-Akira, I'm-"

Akira presses a finger against his lips. He's trembling, holding onto Ryuji like a lifeline much like Ryuji is holding onto him, but his smile is open and genuine and Ryuji almost wants to cry.

"Stay."

Ryuji surges up and crashes their lips together, just as finally inside him finally snaps and at last his pace falters, everything tilts over and before he knows it he's spilling himself inside Akira. Akira sobs as Ryuji fills him, roughly impales himself on Ryuji with a few powerful thrusts and then finally stills and he too releases at last, making a mess of both his and Ryuji's chests.

Finally spent, Akira slumps bonelessly against Ryuji. They both are panting, and sticky, and frankly it's kinda gross, but for now they're both way too tired to even consider the idea of getting their asses to the bathroom and have a shower. Later. Now it's post coital cuddling time.

"Well," Ryuji is the first one to recover. "That was fucking amazing. What date is it? Is it an anniversary I forgot?"

Akira hums. "No reason. Just wanted to do something for once. And you forget an anniversary you can kiss sex goodbye for two weeks minimum."

"Whoa, stingy."

"Gotta make sure you remember."

Akira slowly pulls himself up, grimacing as the sticky mess that action entails. 

"Shower. Definitely."

"Yeah. Can't argue with that. Should have used condoms like the responsible guys."

"Imagine telling former Thieves to be responsible. Can't relate."

Ryuji smacks him for that, but laughs all the same as he helps Akira up on his feet and nearly drags him all the way to the bathroom for a well deserved shower.

And as they kiss and cuddle under the slowly warming spray, he thinks that maybe this life isn't perfect, maybe he's not destined to become the popular track star he dreamed to be, maybe this apartment is a little shitty and his job isn't much, but this life is _theirs_ and maybe… maybe…

It was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written smut in a year so I might be a little rusty lol kudos to you if you managed to stomach the whole thing
> 
> In case anybody is wondering, I headcanon Akira to become a Defense Attorney after the events of the game and working at Sae's firm, while Ryuji is training to become either a nurse specialized in sport medicine or a personal trainer. And ofc Akira came back to Tokyo the moment he was done with high school lol


End file.
